


NAUGHTY LIST

by thoughtsdemise



Series: Twelve Days of Christmas Prompts [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Comfort, Gen, Out of Character, big dragon lap, comfort petting, cuddly tank is cuddly, purry big engine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 03:43:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13138350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: Tarn is pensive and wants a cuddle.  Deathsaurus is more than happy to oblige after a bit of surprised awkwardness.





	NAUGHTY LIST

**Author's Note:**

> Yes it is a headcanon of mine that I consider Tarn a cuddly little monster. I don't tag the DJD as the cuddle tank brigade for nothing you know.

Tarn looks at the datapad containing the List and flings it at the wall.  He stops around his quarters on Deathsaurus’ warship.  He rounds it several more times, each time the frown behind his mask growing deeper as his shoulders and treads slump.  He finally lowers himself to the floor and huffs dejectedly, crossing his arms over his expansive chest and knees pulled up to create a bit of a visual wall against the datapad that lays innocently on the floor.

A tap on his door frame has him turning his helm enough to give Deathsaurus an apathetic look before he chuffs his engine and goes back to staring at his knees that block the datapad.

“Okay,” a deep voice fills the room and heavy ped steps enter, uninvited, but Tarn’s focus remains on the datapad he can’t see.  Deathsaurus resets his vocalizer, but when that evokes no response, he steps closer before stepping back.  His wings fanned out and shivering as he stares at Tarn with wide optics.  Their fields had mingled for just a moment, but it had been a moment long enough to feel an almost overwhelming sense of despair from Tarn.

Deathsaurus lowers his spread wings and considers the leader of the Decepticon Justice Division in front of him.  The way he was curling into himself had the dragon taking a deep vent to steady himself.  How many times now had it been now that he had had to offer comfort to broken soldiers that had been found by his crew, fellow Decepticons and a few defecting Autobots alike, though he thought it wise not to tell Tarn and his crew about those who had once been the enemy.  They were loyal to him, so he would be loyal to them.

He vents another heavy gust of air before settling himself on the floor next to Tarn.  He extends his electromagnetic field until the outer edge of it glances Tarn’s who had drawn into himself at the contact.  Deathsaurus, while somewhat weary about provoking an attack, stays where he had set himself.  Tarn, for all emotions rolling through his field, remains outwardly still and tucked into himself.

So mark Deathsaurus shocked a moment later when there is a flash of purple blur, and he finds himself with a lap full of a heavy tank.  Tarn presses his face into Deathsaurus’ chest and winds his arms about him a moment later.  He shakes but tries to maintain some sense of himself by keeping the shaking of his frame to a minimum.  

Deathsaurus stares with bulging optics at Tarn’s helm pressed to his chest.  His own arms lay at his sides, half raised to defend against a non-attack.  His own frame having gone ramrod straight from the shock of this whole situation.  As he is trying to figure out exactly what is going on a small click of a vocalizer being activated has his optics focusing on Tarn.

“Stroke back please,” the request is so quiet and small that Deathsaurus resets his audio receptor units to make sure they were functioning correctly.  Tarn lifts his helm away from Deathsaurus’ chest enough to give him a small pleading look.  “Stroke back please?”  His voice small again as he presses his face mask back into the expanse of Deathsaurus’ chest.

“Alright.”

Still perplexed by the strangeness of this, Deathsaurus lifts a hand to rub soothing circles on Tarn’s back like a Hot Spot Tender might comfort an upset protoform that was feeling the solidifying pains of their metal cooling and taking form.  He stills his digits for a moment when a large engine begins to rumble in pleasant vibrations.  Tarn chuffs and wiggles his tank treads, trying to encourage Deathsaurus to continue with the soothing strokes.

‘By Primus!’  Deathsaurus thinks as his frame vibrates pleasantly with Tarn’s purring engine.  He shifts Tarn in his lap so more of their plating touches thus spreading the purrs throughout his frame.  Deathsaurus lets a smile touch his lips as hips as he tucks Tarn’s helm under his chin and continues to stroke soothingly down Tarn’s back.


End file.
